Hey, my name's Amanda. I am not really a cutter, just a girl who acts on impulse and always happens to have a safety pin nearby. First let me just say... it's usually stupid to cut yourself with a non-sterile object, especially safety pins. But I happen to be one of those lucky people who doesn't get infections from any stupid self-done procedures - and one of those stupid people who just keeps cutting with non-sterile objects.
At A Glance Author onemorepsycho Contact onemorepsycho@bme.anon IAM Xpsycho_pyromaniacX When Three months ago Artist Me Studio at home and at school Location Navarre, Fl and Hendersonville, Tn Okay, well one thing to remember is my scars never fade away. I have scars from encounters with sharp toys, scars that were made when I was a toddler. Anyway, I started cutting when I was around twelve. When life got shitty and I felt like there was nothing I could do, I reached for a safety pin and scraped it back and forth along my forearm, digging deeper and deeper until it bled. It hurt at first, but usually whatever pain I was feeling on the inside numbed the pain on the outside... or visa versa.
I didn't just do it because "everyone else was doing it." In fact, I didn't even know there were other people that injured themselves. I did it because it seemed like the only way I could release my emotions. Later on I did it because I liked playing with sharp things, I liked seeing blood, I liked the way it felt. Most importantly though, for a moment I could imagine that the pain I was causing myself was mine and mine only, no one else was to blame and no one could stop me, and maybe it would erase away my problems just for that bleeding moment.
I was never really embarrassed of the scars. Just annoyed at all the stupid attention people gave me. All the little lectures. The friends who checked my arm to see if there were more. So I stopped, and decided a piercing would satisfy me and my need to modify my body. So I got my navel pierced and I started wearing earrings. It wasn't enough for me, I needed to see the blood again, hold the safety pin against my flesh. So I cut again... added a few more scars to my forearm.
A little bit later, my brother found out. I made up some bullshit excuse to stop him from yelling at me or telling my parents. He knew the truth, and I knew that he did, but it still stopped him. I no longer wanted the trouble and needless attention that cutting was giving me, so I stopped yet again. For a few months, I was free of new scars... no more cutting. But in class, my teacher was talking and I was playing with a safety pin in my mouth. I grabbed a pen and started drawing on myself as I do every day. I drew an anarchy sign on my thumb and I kept staring at it. I liked it and I wanted for it to stay there. I couldn't get a tattoo, I was four years too young. I took the safety pin and started lightly tracing over it. And I decided to give myself a tattoo.
Let me stop here. This was about the stupidest thing I could have done. If you're going to keep reading on... please don't repeat what I did. Okay so for the entire hour and a half of class, I scraped, scratched, stabbed, and dug into my skin with the safety pin. Scratch the skin with the safety pin, scrape away the excess skin, stab the symbol to make it bleed, dig the pen into the anarchy sign to make the ink sink into my skin and blood. And every day for a week or two I continued doing that. In class, at home, wherever I was... I played with the pen and the safety pin and my thumb. I was making a scarification sort of tattoo for myself. After I stopped, the area stayed red for a couple days. The ink didn't disappear for at least two weeks. It was beautiful. Just what I had wanted.
After a month, the wound had healed and created an anarchic scar that was slightly dented along the lines. It was a pale pinkish-white color that nearly matches my skin. And it is invisible to those not looking, but visible to those whom I show it to. And I like it. If I end up hating anarchy, so be it. I'm proud of my little scar. And it can be an A for Amanda. That's how I like to write my A anyway. That was enough to stop me from scarring myself, although I still enjoy it and maybe you'll be hearing a new story from me. Next stop: eyebrow or tongue piercing. Although that I'm going to leave up to my experienced friends or a professional.